I swear, I'm Innocent
by MarkTheTinyGiraffe
Summary: [Previously called Th1rteen R3asons Why] Suicide. Sam never thought that witch would stoop to that level. But hey, you can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret... is to press play. And Sam can't believe she's admitting it; but she will miss her. [AU, DXS & Full summary inside]
1. Something Special

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**I know I shouldn't be starting another fic right now, mostly because I am still working on 2 other ones, but this idea was too good to pass.****Mainly because I hear so many negative views of Paulina, I am curious to see what kind of responses I might get by displaying her in a new light. (She isn't the only one that will be put into new lighting, though)**

_**Th1rteen R3asons Why**_** is a novel written by Jay Asher. Beautifully written, and just simply AMAZING. (Though, in the book, I don't think her reasons for committing suicide were valid.)**

**And here I bring you; the DP version of that suspenseful and addicting novel. **

**PP never happened.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor Jay Asher's work.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 1: Something special**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

To everyone's relief – including mine – the bell rung, signaling freedom for the next hours until dawn breaks again. Chairs scrapped, chatter arose; papers, textbooks were shoved into bags and the classroom was empty almost in record time. Mr. Lancer just stood, pen in hand, still astonished at exactly _how_, we adolescents manage to get out of class this fast.

Chucking at his baffled expression, I proceeded to pack my own things. Well, I would have, if a certain someone wasn't holding my backpack already loaded with my belongings.

"Ghost powers do come in handy sometimes," He said, his blue eyes sparkling with the mischievous glint I love. Resisting is just futile; and so I get to my tippy toes – darn those growth spurts – and kiss his cheek.

He blushes tomato red, and I feel my cheeks are also tilting pink, but I don't care. He stares into my eyes, and I look into his; mesmerized, by just the raw emotion that's prominent in them. My stomach suddenly gets butterflies.

It feels so good to not hide these emotions anymore.

He asked me out just a few weeks back.

"I don't think I will ever get used to this," I jump at Tuckers sudden appearance; and once comprehending the look of utter disgust on his face, I laugh.

Danny pulls me in for a hug, and I am still giggling in his chest as his strong arms wrap around me. He rests his chin on the top of my head, and out of the corner of my eye I see Tucker smile.

"Took you guys long enough," He says, fiddling with his PDA. He looks nervous.

As we exit the classroom, the three of us being the last to leave, I can't help smiling at just how lucky my sad, twisted life of ghost-busting can be.

That is, until Mr. Lancer speaks up.

"Miss Manson. May I please talk with you privately?"

I groan, and send Danny an apologetic glance. He nods in understanding, but hint of worry is still in his eyes. He leaves the room with Tucker – lingering for a few seconds on the doorway – and then he shuts the door with a soft click.

This better be quick Mr. Lancer.

"Samantha," He says. I wince at the harsh name and glare at his bald head with such force I wish it explodes.

"You can call me Sam." I say though gritted teeth.

Disregarding, or ignoring, my request he continues; "Tomorrow a special Author is coming to visit our school. There is going to be an assembly in which all students of Casper high will attend. All grades need to pick one student to get up on stage and share their thoughts on a novel, poem, or song."

I blink. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"You, Sam, are going to represent our grade,"

I whine. "What is the point of this?" I grumble. I really don't need to get up on stage and blabber on about a book.

People already think I am a freak, now I'll just be a complete nutcase.

But to my surprise, Mr. Lancer smiles. "Rules don't specify exactly what you have to talk about, Sam." He says, "Do something special."

Something special?

Bewildered, I nod and make my way out the classroom.

But as the door clicks behind me; I smile too.

Unique is my specialty.

* * *

**12 hours later**

"Miss?" She repeats. "How soon do you want it to get there?"

I rub my fingers over my temple, wanting the erratic pounding inside to die down.

"It doesn't matter," I say.

The clerk takes the package. The same shoe box that was on my porch less than twenty-four hours ago; rewrapped in a brown paper bag, exactly as I received it. But now, addressed with a new name.

The next name on Paulina's list.

Kwan.

"How much is it?" I ask. My headache is getting to the point I wish someone would just shoot me.

Maybe I can spare a visit to Paulina.

She places the box on a rubber pad, and then punches a sequence on her keypad. I set my cup of gas-station coffee on the counter and glance at the screen. I fish out some bills from my wallet and slap them on the counter.

When I take a sip from the coffee, it's lukewarm, and hard to swallow. But I have got to stay awake somehow.

Or maybe not. The best way to pass through the day today is to just be half-asleep at school. Maybe it's the only way to get through today.

"It should arrive at the address tomorrow," She says, "Or maybe after tomorrow," She drops the box in the cart behind her.

I should have waited till after school today. I should just give Kwan one last day of peace. Even though he doesn't deserve it.

Hence why I am here at five thirty in the morning.

When he gets home tomorrow, or the day after, he'll find a package on his doorstep. Or if it's his mom or dad he'll find it on his bed in the afternoon. And he'll be excited. I was excited. A package with no return address? What's this? Maybe a secret admirer?

"Do you want the receipt?" The clerk asks.

I shake my head.

A small printer spits one out anyway. I watch her tear the slip and crumple it in the wastebasket.

There is only one post office in Amity. I wonder if this same clerk helped all the others on the list, those that got the package before me. Did they keep their receipts as sick souvenirs? Pin them on chalk boards? Tuck them in their drawers?

I don't need it. If I wanted a reminder, I would have made copies of those tapes or kept the map. But I never want to hear those tapes again, even though her voice will never leave my head. And the houses, the streets, the people; Casper high will always be there to remind me.

I walk out the post office, slowly. Ever swallow tastes sour. Every step is an effort. I want to collapse into the side walk and just lay there. I don't want to face school today.

I don't want to face the people there.

I don't want to face that one seat in the class. That one seat.

Paulina's.

Empty.

* * *

**Hurray for DXS! Next chapter will take place one hour after school, and you guys can see what exactly makes Sam so exhausted, and why's she's awake at five thirty in the morning (She didn't sleep at all), and what the heck is going on.**

**Thanks for reading, please review!**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe.**


	2. Cassette 1 Side A

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**Thanks to all those who reviewed: **_**IlikeDP, SamXDanny, jim89, Invader Johnny, sammansonreplica, The elf from Alagesia, and JapaneseClute.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor Jay Asher's work.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 2: Cassette 1 Side A**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

**An hour after school. **

"Bye guys!" I waved, as both boys parted and went their separate ways, home. I stood and watched for a little while, as Danny playfully punched Tucker on the shoulder and Tuck laughed. They turned the corner and left.

I would have reached home earlier, but a ghost disturbance was all it took to make me an hour behind schedule. Oh, well. Doesn't matter.

I walked across to my front door. And I am sort of surprised, when on the front porch I see a box. A shoe-box sized package is carelessly tossed on the welcome mat. A hurried scribble on the top says that it's addressed to Samantha Manson. So I pick it up and hurry inside.

I slide my backpack on the table, dropping it along with the box, and got a pair of scissors. A few snips here and there; and the package is opened.

Inside the shoebox is a roll of bubble wrap. Unrolling it, I discover seven loose audiotapes. Each tape has a bright green number painted on the upper right hand corner, by the looks of it; painted with nail polish. Each side has its own number. One and two on the first tape… three and four on the next one…and so on. The last one has a thirteen on it… but nothing on the back.

Who would send me a box full of audiotapes? No one listens to audiotapes anymore. Do I even have some means to play them?

Grandma's old stereo! Sure it's old, but it can still play. At least, I hope so.

Taking my backpack and the shoebox upstairs, I unceremoniously into her bedroom. She's gone out with my parents on some vacation. She said she has a friend who lives there. I forgot where they went. Germany, probably?

Anyways, I dump my bag on her bed, and sit in front of the dresser; facing the stereo. I press 'Eject' on the player and a slot opens. I slide in the first tape.

* * *

**Play.**

* * *

I do a double take when I hear the Latin American accent.

_Hello, boys and girls. Paulina here. Live and in stereo. _

I don't believe it.

_No return arrangements. No encore. And this time, absolutely no requests. _

No, I just don't believe it. Paulina killed herself.

_I hope you're ready, because I am about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes… you one of the reasons why. _

What? No! I never did anything to you!

_I'm not saying which tape brings you into my story. But fear not, if you received this lovely little box, your name will pop up. I promise._

This is ridiculous!

_Now, why would a dead girl lie? Hey! That actually sounds like a joke. Why would a dead girl lie? Answer: Because she can't stand up. _

Is this some sick, twisted suicide note?

_Go ahead. Laugh. _

_Oh well. I thought it was funny. _

_The rules are pretty simple. Well, there are only two. One: You listen. Two: You pass it on. Hopefully, neither will be easy for you. _

"What are you playing?"

"Grandma!"

I scramble for the stereo, hitting several buttons at once.

* * *

**Play. Backwards. Forwards. Pause.**

* * *

My heart is pounding furiously. "You scared me," I say, shifting uncomfortably. "You came back early," I stated, trying to doge the question. But I know all attempts are just futile.

"Yes," She said, but one of her eyebrows is high up. "Turns out Amanda moved to Italy ages ago. I had no other reason to stay. I came back,"

"Oh," was all I could say.

She nods at the stereo. "What's playing?"

"I-Its nothing. A school project," I cringe inside. Stupid mouth!

I can usually get away with lying. I lie on a regular basis to my parents. But the thing about my grandma is that she knows me like the back f her hand.

Mostly because, that's my stupid excuse for everything.

Staying out late? (usually because of ghost stuff) School project. Leaving the house at random points during the day? (Also, mostly for ghost emergencies) School project. Going to the pharmacy and buying medics for no reason? (Well, I wouldn't have to if Danny would take more care during fights) School project. Almost my answer to every question they ask.

And now, the tapes of a girl. A girl, who, two weeks ago, swallowed a handful of pills.

School project.

And grandma doesn't like being lied to. Her mouth presses in a thin line. "Can I listen?" She asks. It's a simple yes or no answer. And then she'll just take the hint and leave. But honestly, I have the world's idiotic mouth.

"It's not mine," I say. "I'm helping a friend. It's for history. Boring stuff,"

She nods and walks over to me. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she can see right through the façade, but she doesn't comment. She unplugs the stereo from behind the dresser, hands it to me and says, "Well, that's nice of you."

She kisses my forehead.

Grandma trusts me. And I just broke that trust. I walk over to the bed, grab all my stuff, and go to my room. Guilt is all I feel right now. My fingers, my hands, my arms, my neck; everything feels hallow.

I promise to make it up to her.

Determination seeps into me, and I throw everything on my bed as I reach my own room. I slam my door shut. I plug in the stereo. I sit on my bed, with my backpack sprawled on my left, the shoebox on my right, and the stereo in front of me.

I sit cross-legged, and lean on the pillows behind me.

Right Paulina. Let's see what I did to you.

Nothing.

I don't get it. True, I hate her, but not so much I want her dead. Sure, I might have said I want her dead a few times, but that was because I was blinded in fury of what was happening and I didn't really pay attention to what I said.

But I still don't get it. I didn't do anything to her that might result into this.

…right?

I close my eyes. I wish I just never saw the damn shoebox or the seven tapes inside it. Hitting play the first time was easy. A piece of cake, I didn't know what would happen. I had no idea what I was about to hear. But this time, it is one of the most frightening things I have ever done.

I turn the volume down, and a shaking finger presses play.

* * *

**Play.**

* * *

… _One: you listen. Two: You pass it on. Hopefully, neither will be easy for you._

_When you're done listening to all thirteen sides – because there are thirteen sides to every story – rewind the tapes, put them back in the box, and pass them on to whoever follows your little, innocent tale. And you, lucky number thirteen; you can take these last recordings of my words straight to hell._

_Depending on your religion, maybe I'll see you there._

_In case you're tempted to break the rules, and I am positive you will be, know for a fact that __I did make a copy of these tapes. And those copies will be released publicly in every manner possible if this package doesn't make it through all of you._

_I can grantee you that this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. _

_Do not take me for granted… again._

There's no way she could think that.

_You are being watched._

* * *

**Pause.**

* * *

It's a weak threat and we know it, but I still shiver and look around my room. My stomach turns.

Okay, lets retrace our steps for a little bit. Just, stop. Hold up for a while. I hardly knew Paulina. I knew she was just an A-lister. I knew she was mean. She had everything she ever wanted. Then, why, did she do this?

Believe it or not, I am not a cruel person. And I know that self-harming is not the answer to your problem. It's just the coward's way out.

No, I shake my head. This doesn't add up. I hardly knew her. We never talked. Sure, for reasons we hated each other, but I am NOT in any way, responsible for her death. And not once did I ever take her for granted. Not once.

I glare at the black rectangular pieces in the box. The tapes shouldn't be here. Not with me. It has to be a mistake.

Or a terrible joke.

I reach out for the box and check the wrapping again. A return address has got to be somewhere. Maybe I'm just overlooking it? Paulina's suicide tapes are being passed around.

Someone must have just made a copy and sent them to me as a joke.

And, tomorrow at school, someone will laugh when they see me, and then they'll just smirk and walk away. And then I'll know. I am not the reason for her death.

I didn't do anything to her.

I'm not on her list.

And, then? What if I'm not on her list? What if Paulina is just out of my life, for good now, and I can live on with the fact that I am in no way responsible? What then?

I don't know. I should be happy. She was a mean witch and now she's dead and I should be happy.

But I'm not. I don't know. Maybe because I have what I wanted... Maybe because Danny is now my boyfriend... I don't know.

* * *

**Play.**

* * *

_Hey, I almost forgot, if you're on my list, you must have received a map. _

It's as if I'm slapped across the face.

I'm on the list.

I'm one of the reasons for her death.

A few weeks ago, before Paulina took the pills, someone slipped an envelope in my locker. I didn't know what it was, nut I didn't tell Danny nor Tucker. On it said; SAVE THIS – YOU'LL NEED IT in red ink. Inside, there was a folded up map of the city. There were about a dozen red stars marked on different areas in town.

I kept the map in my backpack, I wanted to ask if Danny and Tucker got one. I guess I never really got round to doing that, and must have forgot about it.

Until now.

_Throughout these tapes, I will be mentioning several spots in our beloved city I would like you to visit. I can't really force you to go there – but hey, I am dead – just in case you would like a little insight, head for the stars. Or just throw the maps away to remove the evidence and I'll never know._

As she speaks through the speakers, I shuffle through the textbooks and papers to find that map. I do, and I pull it out and let the rest of my belongings fall to the floor.

_Or maybe I will. I am still not sure how this dead thing works. Being in Amity and all. Who knows, what if I am standing behind you right now?_

The tape stops right there. I should take it out and put the other side in. But I don't. I sit there, on my bed. Staring. I look at the map in my hands. I look at the stereo.

I don't get it.

Where will I come on these tapes? Where will my story be? Paulina, what have I done to end your life?

Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. I need to think. I mean, why am I listening to this? Why will I listen to the rest of the tapes? Why am I putting myself through this? Why not just get the tape out the stereo and throw the entire box of them into the trash?

I swallow hard. Because it's Paulina's voice. A voice, that Latin accent, which I used to hate. I still do, I mean, what did I ever do to her? But it's a voice I thought I would hear till the end of my school days. Never would I have thought I would hear this.

And because I need to know. I need to know what I did. Because, if I recall, I didn't do anything.

Then why am I on this list?

The rules. Paulina made a copy of these tapes. Someone has them. And their waiting. Waiting, for them to pass on to each one of us – all of us on the list. But what if the tapes stop, if I don't pass them on, that's it. It's over. Nothing happens. I mean, I didn't do anything. I don't deserve to be on this list.

But what if there is something on these tapes that could hurt me? I mean, what if this isn't a trick? Then a second set of tapes will be released. That's what she said. Publicly. And then, everyone will hear what's on them.

Who's willing to test her bluff?

* * *

**What did I just get myself into?**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	3. The Walkman

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**Thanks to all those who reviewed: **_** SamXDanny, jim89, Invader Johnny, sammansonreplica, Jim89, Guest, **_**and**_** Oystardiom.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor Jay Asher's work.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 2: The Walkman**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

I grab my backpack and overturn it. All the contents spill over my mattress and some roll to the floor.

I don't really care right now.

I need to go, I need fresh air.

I eject the cassette. I stuff all the tapes inside the backpack. I slip my boots on. I jog downstairs, the backpack smacking against my back. The tapes inside having haunting secrets that I'm afraid to listen to.

"Grandma! I'm going outside!" I yell when I reach the door. I wait for the reply, my hand hovering above the doorknob.

"Okay!" She says, her voice slightly muffled by the closed doors.

And I'm out.

I start walking, I'm not really sure where I'm going, but it seems that my feet are on auto-mode and my sub-conscious knows where I'm headed. So I continue walking.

I go over the thoughts in my head;

Paulina is dead. She killed herself. The reasons for her death are in my backpack.

And I'm one of those reasons.

And still… nothing seems to make sense.

I shake my head, as if to clear the thoughts, my short hair nipping my face. I sigh and look around instead.

The grass is green. The sky is blue. The traffic is usual. The children running around, playing, are normal. Everything is normal. And I'm somehow a reason for her death. Paulina's death.

Totally normal.

Everything is just going on too fast. An hour ago, I would have been happy that Grandma came home and I would have spent time with her – like I usually would have. If it wasn't for those dreaded tapes. An hour ago, I would have had a normal (somewhat) life and nothing to worry for.

But no, and hour ago, I found tapes. Tapes that have secrets to why the most popular girl in our school killed herself. And I'm one of the reasons why.

I come to a familiar curb, and then I do a double-take. Tucker's house? Really, brain? _This_ is where you were leading me? Then my brain actually decides to be smart and reveal why, exactly, I'm here. Tucker has a Walkman.

When I reach Tucker, he's hunched up over his dad's Mustang. The hood is open, and he and his dad are both leaning over the engine. His dad is muttering stuff under his breath and Tucker looks amused.

Turns out, Tucker would tinker with just about anything, really. Not only is he our tech-wizz, but he has a passion for cars too. I am sort of scared what would happen when he gets his own car – but that's a problem to worry about another time.

"Did it break down?" I ask, when I reach them, "Or is this just for fun?"

His dad stands up and wipes his oily hands across his greasy t-shirt. "Are you kidding?" He says, he looks over at Tucker, "It's always fun,"

He winks when Tucker says, "Yeah, even more fun when it's something serious,"

I nod.

"Dad, you remember Sam," Tucker states, reaching over for a wrench.

"Sure," Hid dad says, "Of course. Good to see you again," He doesn't reach forward to shake my hand, and by the amount of oil smudged on his shirt, I am not offended.

But it's quite obvious he's faking it. He doesn't remember me. Considering his son only has two friends, how should be able to remember them. But, I guess, not.

"Oh, wait," His dad says, recognition fitting across his features. "I do remember you. You stayed for dinner once, right? You were big on the 'please' and 'thank-yous'. Never understood how you didn't eat meat,"

I smile.

"After you left, my mum was on us for a week to be more polite,"

What can I say? Parents just like me. Except my own, but that's a different case.

"Yeah that's her," Tucker nods; he grabs an old shirt to clean his hands. "So, what's up, Sam?"

What's up? Oh, well, since you asked, I got a bunch of tapes in the mail today by none other than Paulina; a girl who killed herself. And, apparently, I had something to do with it. I'm not sure what it is, so I was wondering if I could borrow your Walkman and find out.

"Not much," I say. His dad asks if I would mind helping them. The keys in the ignition, they want me to start up the car. I don't remember saying anything in return, but I remember slinging my backpack over to the passenger seat and sliding behind the wheel.

"Wait. Wait!" His dad yells. "Tucker, shine it over here," Tucker has a flashlight in his hands, and he's standing beside the car. Watching me. When our eyes meet he locks gazes with me. Years of ghost hunting, years of pain and suffer; and I won't ever show it in my eyes.

I don't know what he sees. I don't know if he sees pain, confusion, despair, or all the mixed jumbled emotions I have bottled up in me. I don't know what he sees, but it makes his forehead crinkle with worry lines as he frowns.

Does he know? Does he know about these tapes?

"Tuck," His dad repeats, "The light,"

Tucker breaks the stare and leans in with the flashlight. His gaze slips back and forth from me to the engine.

It's almost as if he _knows_.

He knows something is wrong. That much I think I involuntarily made clear. And considering, all three of us have been close since, like, forever; we can read each other like the back of our palms.

I wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

What if he's on the tapes? What if I need to send it to him, next? What if he is the one who sent them to me?

God, I'm freaking out. The gears in my head are going on overdrive. My hands are shaking. Ugh, get a grip Manson! What if he doesn't know? You need to calm down. Maybe you just look tensed and he's probably picking up from that.

So I look around, try to distract myself. And by some freak miracle of God, behind the passenger seat, on the floor; lies the walkman. It's just sitting there.

I don't even blink.

I grab for the Walkman. Just like that. Without even thinking. The side-pocket of my backpack is open, so I stuff it in there and zip it shut.

I nearly jump out of my skin when he speaks. "Okay, Sam," His dad calls. "Turn it,"

I turn the key and the engine starts. I watch his dad smile. Whatever they did, he's satisfied. So I turn the key and shut it. His dad hums happily as he walks over to the garage, toolbox in hand. Tucker shuts the hood of the car. I step out and sling my backpack on.

I just want to shrink and disappear and avoid all the questions Tucker's eyes were asking. "So, Sam," he says, "What did you come here for?"

It's as if the Walkman in my backpack got heavier. I can feel the weight pressing against my back. "Just walking by. Saw your house, thought I'd say hello," I say, because that is what happened.

His eyes stare at my face a little too long, so I look over at their car. "I'm heading to Danny's to see what's new," He says, and by that I know he means something ghost-related. "Want to come with?" He asks.

I shake my head. "Thanks," I say, "But I'm only walking a few blocks. Maybe rest in the park for a few,"

I hope he isn't on the list. I don't think he is. He really shouldn't be. But then again, I shouldn't be either.

God, what if Danny's there too?

A shiver runs down my spine. I feel sick.

"So, I guess, I'll see you tomorrow," I say. He doesn't reply, just watches me turn and leave.

This hasn't happened before. I never refused to go to Danny's. He knows something is up. I just hope he doesn't tip off Danny as well.

I don't know what I'll tell them.

I walk slowly away, at any moment I expect him to just turn around and yell, 'hey! Where's my Walkman?' But he doesn't.

It's a clean get away.

It's not technically _stealing_, because I'll give it back. The guilt comes rolling in as waves anyways. I look over my shoulder and see Tuck turning the corner – headed for Danny's.

I just hope Danny doesn't get worried. It looks like Tuck is worried.

I frown. He was nervous in class today, too.

He knows something.

I enter the park, and sit on the first bench I see. My backpack sits beside me.

I see children, running around laughing. I see people setting up picnics. I see parents, conversing with each other with grins on their faces. Frisbees fly through the air. The occasional puppy barks and wags its tail. The grass is green. The sky is blue. All is well, and carefree.

I sigh. I guess it's time, time to listen to other side of the cassette.

* * *

**Filler, I guess. Sorry if it's so short. Things really start to get interesting next chapter. **

**Walkman = A trade-name originally used for portable audio cassette players. **

**Reviews are appreciated! :)**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	4. Cassette 1 Side B

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**Thanks to all those who reviewed: **_** jim89, Invader Johnny, Oystardiom, FanFic101Girl, The elf from Alagesia **_**and**_** Mellany Jackson.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 3: Cassette 1 Side B**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

Paulina's voice fills my headphones.

_Alright. Let's start. _

_Victim número uno; Ready Papá?_

No. No. No. No. Wait!

_I don't know what I did, okay? _

Hold up! No!

_I don't think I did anything wrong. _

No. Stop!

_And I don't recall doing anything you hated me for._

* * *

**Pause**

* * *

What is she thinking? She can't kill herself and blame this on her dad! This… this is unacceptable! No. This, this is just, wrong. So, so, so, so, wrong. I refuse to accept this.

I sigh. I really don't want to listen to what she blames her dad for.

I hear children's laughter; and turning my head I see a little boy running with a ball. The kid throws the ball towards an older man, who fakes slipping and falls head-first on the floor – but not really, as he steadies himself just in time.

But the little child, the sweet, innocent deluded mind of the kid, thought that his superior actually fell. So he rushes towards him. The older man, once the kid is near enough, he grasps on his son's shirt and pulls him down, rolling with him on the grass.

The kid laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs until I'm pretty sure that his head might explode.

I look back in my hands, at Tucker's Walkman.

How, how could she? How can anyone be so spoilt? A father is someone who raises you, someone who loves you… someone you should love back.

Right?

I admit, my relationship with my parents is rough around the edges. But we both still love each other. Deep inside, we know we do.

But I honestly don't know what to make of this.

I don't want to play this set. I don't want to know. But, I have to.

I have to, because I need to know how I fit into all of this.

Call me selfish, but I just need to know.

* * *

**Play**

* * *

_Then, why? Why did you do it?_

_To the rest of you, I seem like a spoilt brat. And now, you must be thinking on how I am now, just blaming things on my father. _

_Wrong. _

… Well, that cleared up pretty quick.

_You weren't me. You didn't go through what I went through. You never knew what happens inside the Sanchez mansion. You probably never will. _

_You don't know my story. But now… you will._

Second thoughts run through my head: Do I really want to know?

_But, I don't know; maybe all rich kids go through this. They figure out some way or another to ignore the problem. I tried, I really, truly, did. _

I furrow my brows. Her voice has a tone of such sadness…

What could she have gone through?

_Okay, Papá, I know Mum is dead, but that gives you no excuse to do what you do! You think drinking will solve the problem? You think slurring around the mansion and yelling at me would help you get over it? _

Oh, God. No.

_It hurts me too, okay? I know! But what makes it worse is the fact that you blame it on me! I know your drunk right now, and you probably don't even care that the other member of your family is gone too – but you know what? I don't care! _

She's yelling; practically hysterical, and I can't help but think that this is the only way she vented out her true feelings.

_Get your ass drunk and go to some club and go screw someone else, because the two people who loved you; Me, Mama… Walked out of your life for good this time._

_I hope you're happy._

No. Paulina, you can't say that.

Not to your father.

_I am. I'm going to meet Mother. _

I close my eyes, and lean my head back.

Bile rises in my throat.

* * *

**Pause**

* * *

No, it's quite obvious that not all rich kids go through what she went through. I know, because I don't go through that.

She had family problems. Okay, I get that. But that still gives her no reason to do this. She still had no right to tell us. People who aren't supposed to know, people who weren't involved, people who had nothing to do with it!

But, I guess, she isn't the only one who goes through this kind of stuff. Many kids would harm themselves and hurt over untold, personal, family issues.

I don't know what to think anymore. I don't want to think anymore.

Just listen.

* * *

**Play**

* * *

_I knew you were sad. But what you did – And I know what you did Papá – was unacceptable. I'm going to save you the last amount of respect anyone has for you and not tell what you did._

_But you know, and I know, and I hope you're happy. _

_You caused me so much pain. You were supposed to comfort me after the funeral. You were supposed to be there for me. You were supposed to be my father. _

_But no, you were loaded so you just decided to get drunk and let your daughter find comfort elsewhere. Maybe in your money. It didn't work. _

_Money doesn't bring happiness. I learnt that the hard way. _

I'm glad you did.

_So, thanks Papá; for ruining my life. _

_People think money is everything, they think that, yeah, I have the cash so I'll be okay._

_Idiotas. Idiotas, everywhere. _

_Cash? Short term benefits, sure. _

Is this really Paulina talking?

_But that gaping hole that was in my heart after Mum died – couldn't be filled no matter how many dresses I buy. _

_And, papa, you did nothing but make that hole bigger and bigger. _

_Until I couldn't take it anymore. _

Yes. That much has been made clear.

Because you're not here anymore.

_I started going out late at night because that's when you usually took your chugs. I would go to the club where the A-listers hang out. They didn't before, until I went, and then it just became a ritual that all the popular come and hang out there – we would drink. Yeah, we got drunk. _

Oh no. I cringe. I really don't want to… but, slowly, I open my eyes and look to my right.

_Yes, the club parallel to the park._

It was right there; staring at me. The black building that had no windows, just a neon sign saying something about beer.

I remember Jocks and populars' in school talking about it. Sometimes they would relate stories on who got more wasted and who drunk what, and the occasional argument of who had the worst hangover.

So Paulina basically ruined her life. No, sort of. Her mother died and her father ruined his life because of said death, causing Paulina to ruin her life.

_And it was just sickening, every moment of it. Even the bits I don't remember – it's either; stay home, get yelled at by a drunk father, or go and get drunk yourself. _

Okay. Now I see. I sort of see why this was a huge problem. I see how we are involved. Well, not me, but other people.

Paulina couldn't stand her dad at home because of the unmentionable acts he did, so she was forced to go outside and find comfort elsewhere. So she went to club to wash all her problems away.

Only, that backfired, because as soon as she started to go there, other people would, too.

Why couldn't she deal with this some other way? Alcohol isn't the only answer!

_But you know what's really sad? Like, really depressing? The fact that I – Paulina, the most popular girl in school – had no one to talk to. _

Unfortunately, I don't find that surprising at all. She was too shallow to hold a friend close at heart. Or so I thought.

She couldn't tell anyone because she was over-ridden by guilt of what her father does.

_You heard correctly, I didn't tell anyone about my father's 'problem'. I couldn't, because – there was no one to tell. No one I trusted enough. No one who valued me enough to know._

_You all are the first to know. Be privileged. _

_I hope you're happy. I hope everyone listening is happy._

_Because I'm not. I never was. _

_I never really understood what true happiness was._

* * *

**Stop**

* * *

As the tape finishes, and the slight _whirr_ of the Walkman plays, something moist and damp trails down my cheek.

Bringing my right hand up to wipe it, I'm surprised to find it is actually a tear.

Have I been crying?

I couldn't even answer the question, because, right behind me, a voice said, "Sam? Are you okay?"

I turned to face Danny, and the look on my face must have told him I wasn't, because in two seconds flat I found myself in his embrace, crying on his shoulder.

* * *

**I think the ending to this chapter is a bit rushed. **

**Reviews are appreciated, I would love to know what you think of this!**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe.**


	5. Cassette 2 Side A

**Full summary: **

**You can't stop the future. You can't rewind the past. The only way to learn the secret… is to press play. Sam doesn't want anything to do with the tapes Paulina made. Paulina is dead. Her secrets should be buried with her. But when Paulina's voice tells her - that somehow - Sam is responsible for her death, all through the night; Sam keeps listening. She follows Paulina's recorded words throughout Amity, the small town that's oblivious to secrets, and what she finds...changes her life forever.**

* * *

**Well, this is a fast update; comparing it to the lengths I have left things in the past with. I really felt like writing this chapter as soon as I can. So I did.**

**Thanks to all those who reviewed: **_** jim89, Invader Johnny, The elf from Alagesia, JulieTelrats7380, SamXDanny, **_**and**_** LunaTheBlackWolf.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 3: Cassette 2 Side A**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

I soaked Danny's T-shirt with my salty tears, and I guess I would have felt a bit guilty, but I didn't; because he was rubbing soothing circles on my back and telling me that it's all right and it will be all okay. He kept on repeating it, mumbling comforting words in my hair – which, by the way, must have been a total mess – in fact, I was pretty sure that I was a complete mess, my hair, my eyeliner, my crumpled clothes… yes, I was pretty much a huge mess and my boyfriend didn't seem to mind at all.

I did stop crying, at some point, and I rubbed my eyes – and even though I was an utter mess I just managed to make myself look even more horrible – and looked up at him. Turns out I stopped crying once the sun was setting, the sky was orange by its glow; and Danny's face was illuminated by the sky, his features tinted orange, and his electric blue eyes were showing such concern it was heart trembling.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and I wanted to pull away, but as I leaned out, Danny's arm – that was on my shoulder, giving me a semi-hug – shot downward to my waist and he pulled me so close to him I found myself on his lap.

So, I rested my head in the crook of his neck and he wrapped both his arms around me protectively. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He said.

Well, yes and no. I somehow killed Paulina. So, I am sorry. No, because so far, I did not know how I managed to kill her.

We stayed like that for a little while, me practically on him, as he gave me hug that lasted for a long, long, time. I placed a palm on his chest – above his heart – and listened carefully to the da-dun, da-dun, da-dun it made.

I thought of how lucky I am to have such a wonderful boyfriend. I thought of how lucky I am to have someone to cry on. I thought of how lucky I am to have Danny.

I thought of how Paulina's heart no longer made a da-dun.

I don't know how long we sat there, but we did, in a comfortable silence. My eyes throbbed because it took mass effort to spit out Niagara Falls and my head ached because of it. We didn't say anything, but Danny didn't let go; and neither did I, and I had no intention to do so any moment sooner.

The sun finally set, and the first night-time creatures started chirping. That's when Danny broke the silence, and said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I thought about the question. Did I really want to tell my boyfriend that I killed a troubled teen? A teen, that goes to our school? No. But that hurt; not being able to tell him, it pulled at my heart and, even though it seemed irrational, I thought it was unfair.

"No." I said, and I closed my eyes and squeezed them tight wanting the throbbing in my head to ease.

He shifted, and I was forced to lift my head off the dip of his neck and open my eyes and look at him. He was searching my face, looking straight at my eyes. If anything, he and I both knew that he can read my eyes like an open book.

I refused to make eye contact.

"Sam," he said, calmly, "Look at me,"

I didn't.

"Please Sam. Tell me what's wrong,"

I said nothing.

"Is it something I did?"

Quietly, I said, "No,"

"Did someone else do anything?" And then his hands came up to my shoulders, and with a desperate edge to his voice, an urgency to know, he pleaded, "Oh God, Sam, was it a ghost? Did it threaten you? Are you okay? I swear if it-"

I looked up at him then, looking him dead in the eye, and he stopped short. I wonder if he saw the sadness in my eyes. I wonder if he saw the guilt. I don't know what he saw, because I was in a mix of my own emotions, and I had no idea what I felt. But he saw something; I don't know what he saw or what he thought, but his voice shook when he said, "Oh, Sam,"

I circled my arms around his neck, and this time, he buried his face in my shoulder. His arms were wrapped around me again, tighter.

"_My_ Sam." He said. "My wonderful, strong, amazing Sam," He said, and the way he said it; like praising a prized possession, I gave a small smile.

I was right in thinking that he knew something. Of course he did. I knew he did. I just didn't realize it until now. It was as if it were an old song, and I could remember the lyrics but not the name. I knew that he knew but I didn't know.

"It's okay," He said, "As long as I can sit with you through every moment of it. As long as I can stay with you, and as long as you stay with me,"

I nodded.

So he got the backpack that was sitting next to us. He unzipped it, and I took out the second cassette. He sighed. I fumbled with the walkman until it opened. I switched the cassettes.

"Just – just, know that it wasn't your fault, okay?" He said, nervous.

And that is when, ladies and gentlemen, I started panicking: "God, Danny did you- what did I? I mean, how was I…? Danny, wait, no, did I-"

"No. Sam. Listen to it. It's okay. Everything is okay. Just listen,"

Deciding I was going to figure it out anyways; I slipped my headphones on – they somehow magically dropped out of my ears while I was crying – and I did what he told me to.

I listened.

* * *

**Play**

* * *

_If, you are still listening to this, you are, 1) My dad, who needs to know how else he fits into this, or, 2) Anyone else, who is on my list, but is anticipating their trial. Their turn in my story. _

I am, Paulina. Please, tell me. Tell me.

_But I'm not going to tell you who this tape is about. No. I'll just let my story roll out in flares and wait till you come to realization. Have fun with this one, kids._

Gee, thanks.

_Now, not getting attention, the love, the affection – or, hey, anything, - from my 'parent', I got diluted in other things. To keep myself preoccupied, you and I both know now, that I started drinking in the bar next to the park._

_But that wasn't my only problem. Oh, no._

_Because my so called 'parent' didn't give a rat's ass about what I was up to, or just didn't care at all in general, I started to crave attention. I wanted people to see me. I wanted to be noticed. I wanted people to get to know me._

_I wanted to be popular._

_It was frighteningly easy, actually._

Very.

_A wardrobe change. That's all it took; short skirts, tight shits, glimmering bangles and shining rings. Make-up. And then the party invitations came rolling in. And the crowd changed. My hopes flared. _

_But then it got too far. It always gets too far._

Considering you managed to get yourself killed, yes.

_I became popular. But I also had to act the part, didn't I?_

_So the bitchy attitude that I picked up from the majors came in, too. The sassy remarks. The coy replies. The seductive looks._

_I eventually made it to the top – The Queen bee, The Prom Queen – and I was loving every glorious moment of it. _

_I didn't know what I had become. I became a monster. I wanted attention and now I was self-absorbed with it. _

_And the worst part of all was: I knew it._

_I knew what I was doing. I was aware of what I had become – what I was becoming – and there was nothing I could do to stop it._

_It sort of just sneaks up on you. Like a predator, chasing its prey. Its slow at first, and waits, but when the right moment comes; it attacks, and leaves you with nothing._

_Popularity is this one-time big-deal. It comes slowly at first; very gradual, and then all at once. _

_I had to keep up with the latest gossips. I had to keep up with the latest fashion. I had to keep up with the same crowd and my social status. _

_It was tiring._

_I guess one of the downfalls (Or is it really a downfall? Maybe it was a good thing?) Of being a popular girl in school is that there is this unspoken rule that the most popular girl must date the most popular guy. _

_And now, you know who this tape is about._

I don't know whether to be sad or happy. It's not about me. But does that mean mine will come later? Will mine come in a worse situation?

_Dash, darling, you were my first love. You were the first person I dated, and you were the first person I kissed._

_I remember this one time we were at the park. On a date. You brought us ice-cream._

Oh, not this.

This story has been told so many times around schools. All the way till the juniors, as well. And, at first, when I heard it; it was disgusting. I found it disgraceful. But by the time it was lunch I had already heard (Okay, eavesdropped) on tree different versions that I didn't even want to know which was more pitiful.

_Now, you may know about this date in particular. There were different rumors and different versions of this all around school. But here's the version no-one has told often: The truth._

I shudder.

Danny, being the sweet little thing he is, pulled me closer because he must have thought that I was feeling cold.

_I don't know what we were talking about. It was sometime between us finishing the ice-creams and before the sunset. We were talking – probably about school – and out of the blue, totally random; you kissed me._

_It was a sweet, small, chaste kiss. It had me feeling tingly afterwards and I couldn't stop smiling. I was grinning like a fool in love throughout the rest of the day, even when we sat together and watched the sunset._

_And then he walked me home before it got too dark. I gave him a kiss on the cheek as a good-bye and he left._

_That's. All. That. Happened._

That's it?

I furrow my brows. That's not what I was expecting. I thought…

_What? You were expecting something else, were you? Me doing something sexy? My hand reaching down and unzipping his jeans, and-_

_-well, none of that happened. Two kisses, that's what happened. No sex on the park floor. No blowjob under a tree. _

_So, imagine my surprise, Dash; when I walk in to school next day and find half the student body looking at me hungrily, and the other half giving me glares of pure disgust. _

_Why, why on earth did you spread those rumors, Dash? Why, why did you make me look like a slut?_

Oh shit.

No, he did NOT.

Oh, yes he did.

Shit.

_Yes, dear listener. I didn't do all those freaky things that Dash described. Or any of the other things that you presumed I did because Dash created a rumor. _

_As a popular, I totally understand why, oh why, he did it._

_He wanted attention._

Anger surges though me. I could already picture myself clawing his eyes out.

_But Dash, I always loved you. I thought you were the only one I could talk to. I thought I could trust you._

_I trusted you._

_And then you broke that trust – like a piece of paper, it wrinkled, and no matter what you did or what you tried the creases of those wrinkles were still etched on the paper. _

_So my bitchy attitude doubled in quantity. And I became a pissed teen who never trusted anyone and always wrinkled my nose at the ones beneath me because I knew played a role in spreading rumors._

_I lost my ability to trust people._

_I lost my ability to love._

_I lost my ability to stay happy._

_Thanks, Dash. Thanks a lot; for my first kiss. _

_And for my first rumor. For the first one; the first bomb that set off a series of other bombs and resulted in nothing other than war and destruction._

* * *

**Stop**

* * *

I heard the _whirr_ of the tape. The Cassette finished.

I was so angry; but the aftermath of my emotional breakdown was upon me, and my head was hurting so I couldn't rant on Dash for being a backstabbing loser.

I sighed.

I wonder if the other stories are like this, too. Small things, but done on a major scale. And all these things fix together in a huge puzzle that ends up her hating herself.

Danny kissed the top of my forehead.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

The sky was a midnight blue, now. And the stars were shining brightly.

No. I had the whole night to think. I have the whole night to talk to him about it.

But now, the only thing I want to do is listen.

Listen to how Paulina fell apart, rolled in the dirt, burned, and how her ashes flew away with the air.

Listen to all the things the people did that made her take her life.

Listen to know how I killed her, too.

* * *

**Woah. Long chapter.**

**Anyways, I hoped you liked reading this as much as I loved writing it. More DXS later on, I promise.**

**Review and tell me what you think; and tell me if Dash's reason was fair enough to make Paulina suffer all that. Thank you so much for reading! **

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	6. Cassette 2 Side B

**I'm BAAAAACCCKKKK! **

**That was a horrible long wait. Sorry.**

**Um, I finally decided the actual plot of this story, and I realized that I don't have 13 reasons as to why Paulina killed herself… so I shall be changing the story title soon.**

**Annnnnnddddd, to those who review and tell me that they were also thinking of doing a 'Th1rteen R3asons Why' thing, DP version, have in mind that you can! As long as you don't copy my work, there is no harm in starting your own 13-reasons-why. **

**So, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.**

* * *

**Th1rteen R3asons Why**

**Chapter 5: Cassette 2 Side B**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

I switch the sides of the cassette and place it back in. But, should I press play? I don't want to do this, anymore. I don't want to hear her voice. I don't want to know who else was involved.

Danny must have sensed my hesitation and gently creased my cheek. "It's okay Sam. You're almost there,"

There to what? I wanted to ask, but I dreaded the answer.

* * *

**Play**

* * *

_I'm quite glad you've made it this far. Lovely to see how much you're interested in knowing what happened to me. Too bad I'm already dead. Too bad you can't come and ask me things anymore. Too bad, I guess. _

There is guilt swelling inside my stomach. Guilt.

_I wonder who this tape is about. I wonder who is waiting anxiously for it. Who is it? Is it you?_

God, Paulina. Only if you were here to see me. What did I ever do to you?

_Valerie. Cómo estás hoy?_

Valerie! How the hell is this Valerie's fault!

_Sí, I made a mistake. This was all my fault. Once your dad lost his job – well, I practically ditched you, and that wasn't fair. I should have waited. I should have been patient. I should have stuck with you. _

_But my reputation mattered more, you see? I was a monster – please, please try to understand – I'm sorry. I was consumed with the need for attention and – _

Her voice cracked, almost as if I could hear her tears. She took a moment to compose herself.

_H-hanging out with you would have ruined the whole thing! Don't you see? I made a mistake, and I hated myself for it. _

_I saw how much this affected you. But did I come up to you and talk about it? No. Did I at least give one sign that I want to stay friends? No. Did I even try to make an effort? No._

_And, to think of it, if we were still friends – back then, when Dash's rumors spread – I think I might have actually told you the truth. Hell, I _would_ have told you! But you weren't there._

_Because I wasn't there for you._

_I didn't have anyone to comfort me… and you had no one to comfort you._

_I admit it. I admit: I was depressed._

_Things changed when Tucker asked you out, though. _

I was surprised that she addressed Tucker by his name for once, and not by 'geek'.

But I remember that. A sad smile found its way to my face. Tucker was nervous as hell. Valerie was shy and lonely. They instantly attached, and the trio, became four. Valerie soon learnt about Danny's ghost side, and the two made up, thank God, and everything is good now. We aren't that close, but it's good to have a girl's opinion every once in a while.

_You were happy. You began to smile more. You laughed more in classes. You became confident. _

_And with unimaginable guilt, I realized, you were happier without me._

_I deserved it, didn't I?_

…yes? No? I don't know what to think anymore.

_I dealt with that, though. I was depressed, but once you and the geek were actually dating – I did nothing to interfere. I already caused you so much sadness. _

_But what you did to me was unforgiveable._

What did she do? What did I do? Every story has a connection. Every story has an impact… but how can this be so consequential? What could have Valerie done?

_I had lost my only true friend because of my need for attention and popularity. So I would do anything and everything to keep that status – because of the sacrifices made for it._

_That was, until, I walked out of the house the next day and realized that all the trees in my lawn were covered with toilet paper._

I giggle. Not the 'ha-ha' type laugh, but one of those nervous tension fit that bubbles up inside you, and then something completely out of the blue comes up and it seems so trivial and pointless at the moment that you burst out laughing, letting some of the tension go. Danny looks at me worriedly. I shut up.

_Oh, go ahead and laugh. I thought it was funny, too. That is, until it happened to me._

_You know where I'm going with this. _

_I was h-u-m-i-l-i-a-t-e-d. My popularity status hit rock bottom and I had to hide myself from people. It was so embarrassing. People would call out horrible things in the corridors, and I would just sashay away as if they were beneath me and pretend I didn't hear them. _

_The only people who still seemed to like me were my gang – and even at that they probably only hung out with me because they wanted to seem popular. Not because any of them really liked me._

_I cried in the bathroom. But you'll know more about that later._

Is she talking about what I think she's talking about?

_I went home and checked the footage on the security cameras. _

_It was you, Valerie. You and your boyfriend. You came staggering up to our house and did that. Why?_

….Tucker? Valerie? I know we all kinda did kid around the Nasty burger imagining torture devices for Paulina… it all just seems so sick now… but we weren't really planning on using any of them! Were we?

_I know I made a mistake – but I lost a friend for it! I was only left with popularity, the one thing I was finding comfort in, as sickening as it is._

_Why did you have to take that away from me as well? Why on earth would you do that? I know I was a horrible friend… but I didn't deserve this. I never deserved this._

_I swear I didn't deserve any of it._

* * *

**Stop**

* * *

The whirr of the tape is there again.

She didn't. She honestly didn't deserve any of that. Why would Valerie do something so stupid?

"You okay?" Danny asks.

I shake my head. "Why would Val… Tucker…"

He hangs his head as if he were ashamed. "I never knew, Sam. I confronted him. He told me they were just messing around. They didn't want it to get that far. They didn't know about the security system and they went at midnight,"

"They thought they would never get caught?" I asked, anger rising in my voice.

How could they? Didn't they know that's what was left of her? …Paulina…Her only solace, was her popularity. Her family is torn apart, things were as bad at home as they could be, then she becomes popular… and so she ditches her best friend… and then Dash spreads the rumors... he lies about her… and then her ex-best-friend comes along with her boyfriend and takes the only thing she has left in that school… her popularity.

She was utterly left with nothing, it seemed.

"I guess even if they were expecting to get caught they never expected this. They must have thought she would lash out a few harsh words and stomp off. They never knew what she was going through," He stands up. "You can't really blame them," He offers me his hand.

I take it, and grab the bag with the tapes and the walkman. We hold hands as we walk through the park. I don't know where we're going, and honestly, I don't care. We walk through the park and out the gates. We walk down the street and past the shops.

It was only when I saw the familiar building that I realized where he was taking me.

"I don't think I can face him right now." I say, but Danny continues walking, as if he didn't hear me. "Danny. I don't want to see Tucker. Not right now,"

He turns and looks at me, at then I notice the bits of worry and panic in his electric blue eyes. "We need to solve this now, Sam. We need to do this one step at a time,"

"Do what? What's going on? Is there more? God, don't tell me there's more-"

"-There is more, Sam. But it's not about Tucker." He says, he gently guides my elbow and leads me inside. The door was unlocked.

Then who is this about? I wanted to ask. Was it Valerie?

Oh God… was it Danny?

I enter and I see Tucker, bent over at the counter of the table, holding his head in his hands. He looked so miserable. God, he must feel miserable. They didn't mean it. They were just goofing off and doing stupid things. They never expected something as trivial as this to get so out of hand. Of course they didn't.

I look in the middle of the room and see Valerie. She looks like she was run over by a truck. Her clothes are messed up, her hair is a mess, her cheeks are damp with tears.

I probably look the same. Maybe even worse.

She looks up at me, and our eyes meet. I see sadness, remorse… and guilt. I look away. I don't have any words for her at the moment.

"Which one are you on now?" She whispers. Her voice was hoarse, probably from brawling so much. Tucker looks up as if he just acknowledged we existed.

I just finished the second side of the second cassette. "The third. I'm going to start it,"

Valerie gasps. She gets up and sits next to Tucker. Tucker's eyes go wide and look at Danny. In a few seconds he had guided me to the chair so that I was sitting next to him, and he was face-to-face with Tucker.

"Listen to it now," Danny says, his voiced a forced calm.

Something's wrong. Something's really, really wrong.

"Why?" I ask. Why should I? Why do they need to be here with me while I listen?

Danny puts both his hands on my shoulders, making it impossible for me to not look into his wild neon eyes.

"Because, Sam," He says, "The next tape. The next tape… is about you,"

* * *

**The worst cliff-hanger in the history of cliff-hangers. I'm sorry. **

**Reviews will make me update faster. **

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe.**


	7. Cassette 3 Side A

**I should really update my other fics. I'm putting too much priority on this one. I don't know. **

**WARNING: Slight Swear-words are used in this chapter. Sorry.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.**

* * *

**I swear, I'm innocent**

**Chapter 6: Cassette 3 Side A**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

"The next tape… is about you,"

All my senses came down to a screeching halt. He cannot be serious.

My stomach lurches. I brace my hands on the table; I scrape my chair backwards.

"…Sam?" Danny's voice is laced with worry.

I turn my head away.

I throw up on Tucker's carpet.

And as I make reaching noises, my head spins. Their voices mix. I don't know who's saying what anymore. And to be completely honest, I don't care.

"Oh, ewwwww," "Gross!" "Well, she took that better than I thought," "Get the mop, idiot," "My parents are going to kill me!"

I cough, and I'm vaguely aware of the fact that Danny is holding my hair back.

I wonder faintly if Tucker's dad still thinks I'm big on 'please' and 'thank-yous' before I black out in his living room.

* * *

I wake up and I realize I'm still in the room. I'm on the couch. The room smells like my vomit and detergent. It's sickening.

"When was the last time you ate?" Danny asks, calmly. He's kneeling next to me; as I lay on the couch.

I don't remember eating anything since after school. Been too busy, I guess.

Danny nods at the look in my eyes and kisses me on the forehead. He walks off into the kitchen.

I actually fainted? …how?

Well, bain, maybe lack of food can really get to you. But I do let myself admit that I am dehydrated; I've been crying all my body fluids out.

Val and Tucker are sitting on the couches next to mine. None of us talk.

Danny comes back with a sandwich.

I eat in a tense silence.

* * *

He has his arms around me, securing me in place. I'm looking into his eyes… his blue eyes, and I just can't handle it. I don't want to do this.

I don't want to press play.

Suddenly, I don't want to know how I caused her death.

* * *

Her violet eyes are filled with such fear it _terrifies _me. Sam's never this scared. But she needs to listen. She needs to explain.

She needs to explain to me… because I don't even understand.

"Danny," She whispers, and I suck in a sharp breath. Her voice sounds so frail, so fragile, almost as it were about to break.

"Danny," She repeats, "I need answers first. I'm not going to listen before,"

* * *

I don't want to ask for what I did, because I think I already know. But I don't want to ponder over the fact. I look over to Tucker. "I took your walkman," I say.

He nodded. "I know,"

I'm not even shocked by his response. I don't know what to be shocked by anymore.

I can only nod. "You guys knew about this? About her?" I couldn't even say her name.

Valerie spoke up. "The package came to us yesterday. It was addressed to both me and Tucker. So we both listened to it. Then we sent it to you,"

A sick feeling crawled itself inside my stomach. "And no one told me?"

"You were going to find out, anyways, Sam," Danny told me, trying to look into my eyes. I didn't want to see them right now.

But when a striking question came into my mind, I snapped my head towards him. He seemed surprised to see me meet his eye.

"And you?" I said, my voice almost shaking. "How come you knew about this?"

Nothing could have prepared me from the words that left his mouth.

"Someone had a spare copy of these tapes, Sam," Danny mumbled.

What? Why?

But then the words echo in my head: _In case you're tempted to break the rules, and I am positive you will be, know for a fact that I did make a copy of these tapes. And those copies will be released publicly in every manner possible if this package doesn't make it through all of you._

I slightly shook my head, no… I knew what he was about to say… and yet, I so badly wanted him to not say it.

"And that someone… is me,"

* * *

He feels everyone's steady gaze in the room and the small voice in his head tells him he should start explaining. So he does.

"I was in the library and she came up to me and asked me if there was any way she could record her voice on stereo tapes. I don't know why she came and asked me – probably because I have weird parents with all these gadgets and stuff – but to be honest, she should have just gone to Tucker…" From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam glaring at him. Right. Get to the point.

"…So, um, I told her yes, and showed her how to make tapes. I had no idea what they were for or anything. And then the next day she comes and gives me two copies of these tapes. I listened to them all night. Once I get the gist of it I run to her house… but it's too late,"

* * *

The words echo in my mind. _It's too late_.

It's always too late, isn't it?

I get up and walk to the table. I grab the walkman and the bag. I switch the tape.

Looking to my right I see that there are stains on the carpet, and it's all damp. Guilt slowly makes its way through my spine.

I take a deep breath when I come back and sit down next to Danny. (Who, by the way, was giving me a questioning stare. I tried to give him a smile but couldn't, so I must have ended up making my face look like some sort of grimace.)

There was only one thing left to do.

* * *

**Play**

* * *

_I admire your strength if you are still listening to this. To be honest, if I were you I wouldn't have. That is, unless my bit hasn't come up yet. _

I breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out.

_It's ironic, really, that I'm thinking about you when you're thinking about me. But not in a good way. Never in the good way. _

I've never stopped thinking about you from the moment these tapes landed on my front door, Paulina.

_The person in this story, well – they might surprise you. Or they might not. Honestly, it all depends on the social status they hang in. _

I suddenly have visions of Dash, Valerie, Tucker – and anyone else who has heard these tapes. What do they think of me? Do they think my crime was unjust? Do they think I am a murderer?

_Hey, remember when I said I cried in the bathroom because I was humiliated? And, remember when I said that they'll be more information on that later?_

_This is later._

_You see; I didn't just cry in the bathroom. I wish I did, though. But that wasn't the case. _

_I reached the stall and locked the door by the time my eyeliner was running down my face and I was sobbing like a two year old kid. But there was water on the floor – water or piss, never figured out which – and I slipped. _

_I didn't fall in the toilet but I managed to twist my ankle really badly, so now I wasn't crying because of my early embarrassment but now of physical pain. I twisted the lock on the door and opened it, but the damn thing was stuck so I used a lot of force. _

_I ended up scratching myself with my nails because they were digging into my skin – why is the lock so tiny anyways – and it wouldn't budge. The edgy bit was actually really sharp so when I gave a frustrated shove I sliced my wrist. _

_Okay, so there were droplets of blood smearing everywhere and I was getting angrier by the minute. I kicked the door with my heel and it opened, finally, but because I was balancing on my injured foot I fell forward. _

_On the floor. _

_So my blood sprayed everywhere, and it looked so prominent on the white tiles it felt horrible. I was in a half sitting position when the door opened. I froze._

_Guess who walked in?_

Me.

_Now, if you were anything normal I would think one would have screamed when they saw my tear-streaked face, limp body, and cuts on my palms with blood dripping down my arm. But you didn't. _

_Yes, you were shocked. Your eyes were wide and your mouth was hanging open. _

_But you didn't do anything, Sam. You did nothing but watched. You did nothing but watched as I struggled to get up but because of my injury I winced and fell back on the tiles. _

I shudder as the memory flows back into my head. I shudder.

_Your phone buzzed._

_You scrambled for it, happy for a distraction, and scanned the message. _

_You looked up at me, slipped your phone in your pocket, turned, and left the washrooms._

My hands ball up into fists and grip my hair.

_I wasn't that surprised. I mean, let's face it; I was a complete bitch to you. But the fact that you didn't even care as to help me, was sad. It just shows the horrible person I am, right? If I wasn't nice to her why would she be nice to me?_

_No, what was also sad was the fact that you saw the blood and cuts and did nothing about it. You might have thought I was a self-harming freak. And you didn't do anything about it. You never came to try and talk to me about it._

_Your silence was a crime, Sam. It broke me inside. _

_Is this what people think about me? That I'm not even worthy of worry? That I'm just a popular that's going to be nothing one day? Someone stupid at math and English?_

_Yes._

No!

_You probably did think that of me. But guess what? I damn well knew it. _

_Imagine how it must feel. To know that every freaking move in your life is being judged by people you supposedly not care about. _

_But you know, when you looked up from your phone, I saw something in your eyes. Your weird purple eyes, maybe I'm imagining it or maybe I'm forcing myself to believe it was there, but I thought I saw pity. _

_Pity. _

_I guess I am to be pitied right? I'm that much of a screw up in life. _

No!

_Weird though, because I honestly thought we could have been friends. _

_I was astonished when I heard you were rich. You didn't act like a rich kid. You always stood up for what you thought. And I used to think, if she can be rich and do whatever she pleases at the same time, why can't I?_

_And, let's rewind. Let's pretend that mama didn't die; and dad didn't take drugs; and I didn't drink; and rumors weren't spread; and no one humiliated me. _

_Back then, when I was nice, when I was kind – when I was innocent, do you think we could have been friends?_

Yes, Paulina. We could have.

_I think we might have had a fair chance. _

_But it's too late now, isn't it?_

_It's too late._

* * *

**Stop**

* * *

It's too late.

The words echo through my head.

It's too late.

Something inside me finally snaps. My hands grip my fisted hair harder. All the hatred; regret; guilt; worry; and remorse burst as if they were trapped up in a bubble. All the feelings I kept hidden inside me swell up. And they finally come out…

I scream.

DAMN YOU PAULINA!

You never knew what happened! You never knew who messaged me! Damn it if I got a 'code-red' message from Tucker – probably about some ghost attack – was I supposed to just ignore it and tend to you?

No! I left because I had to! I left because there were other things to worry about!

And I didn't look at you with pity. I looked at you with… sadness.

I'm crying. I'm in hysterics. I don't know. I'm yelling. I'm kicking. Danny's trying to calm me down. Tucker already took the walkman away. I'm yelling every single swear word I know and trashing around. My body's shaking.

Paulina, I looked at you with sadness… because I actually felt sorry for you.

DAMN IT I WOULD HAVE HELPED IF I COULD! I SWEAR I WOULD HAVE!

I'm screaming again. Someone's holding me. They're trying to calm me.

I'm vaguely aware of Danny telling me things. I don't even know what he's saying. My mind is completely elsewhere.

Paulina I had to be somewhere else. I couldn't help you. I was sorry. Hell, I still am sorry.

But you don't know how it feels!

How do you think it feels Paulina? Huh? To have the one and only person you care so much in this damn world about that you would die for them? How do you think it feels when they come to you at the middle of the night with wounds that could be fatal?

How do you think I feel when Danny gets hurt during a fight?

How do you think it feels, Paulina, to have to tend to said person hoping they would get better? Tending them with improvised nurse-skills hoping they would get better? Knowing that they can't even go to the hospital because they are a ghost?

How do you think I feel?

How do you think it feels, Paulina, when I lay down next to him when I'm done; and he weakly smiles and tells me I've done a great job when both of us know that he needs serious medical attention? How do you think I feel when he winces every time anti-septic is placed on deep gashes?

I'm crying; full-out sobbing. My voice is breaking; I stopped screaming so long ago. I'm hugging someone. I'm crying on their shoulder.

Paulina, what was I supposed to do if you got a very deep cut on your wrist? That looks like a miniscule scratch compared to what I see.

Paulina, what was I supposed to do if I got an urgent message and needed to go help elsewhere?

Paulina, what was I supposed to do? What did you want me to do?

I realize I'm hugging Danny. Of course I'm hugging Danny. Who else? God, where would I be without him?

I squeeze him tighter.

But I _am_ guilty.

After the ghost fight – which was pretty bad, I tell you, too much blood loss for both me and Danny - I never told anyone. I didn't tell anyone about the encounter in the bathroom.

My silence was a crime. Yes, a crime that was lethal.

Because, what if, I went and talked to her later?

…What if I actually wanted to know what happened? What if I actually wanted to become friends and figure out what's wrong with her?

I didn't.

I did do something to you.

I am a cause of your death, Paulina.

I just didn't realize it until now.

* * *

**Oh wow. I think this is one of those moments where you blink a few times and let that sink in. **

**As sadistic as it sounds, this was actually really fun to write. **

**I would really appreciate it if you review, and answer the following:**

**Was Paulina's reason for Sam's cause of her death justified in her point of view? (Considering she knew nothing about the whole ghost stuff.)**

**Was Paulina's reason for Sam's cause of her death justified in**_** Sam's**_** point of view?**

**Was this tape somewhat of a shocker to you?**

**Did you enjoy reading the chapter? I wrote it differently… I want to see if you like it or not.**

**Okay, thanks guys: and the more answers to the questions I get the faster I'll update!**

**~Mark The Tiny Giraffe. **


	8. Define Innocence

**God, it's been so long.**

**This is the first time I'm writing a song-fic, so I really don't know how this turns out. I strongly suggest you check the song out whenever you feel like, preferably before you read this to get the feel of it… it's called "You're not Innocent" by Codi Kaye. It should be the first one that pops up on Youtube.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DP or Codi's song. **

**The italics are the song.**

**See ya at the bottom!**

* * *

**I swear, I'm innocent**

**Chapter 8: Define innocence**

* * *

**Sam's POV**

The headache pumping in my head is a hundred times worse than the silence in the room. They're waiting for my explanation. What should I tell them? I just left her bleeding there because a ghost emergency came up? Well, that's what happened, so that's it.

When tell my side of the story my throat is horse and they only nod in understanding. Danny just shifts on the couch and hugs me tighter. I don't want to let go. My headache is thumping in an annoying rhythm.

I don't know how the time passed. I guess we were all just in our own thoughts. I remember asking them who was next on the list, and then they tell me that it was Kwan.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I told them that I didn't want to listen to anymore of the tapes, and none of them objected. Valerie actually quietly went to the table and started packing the tapes in a box. She asked me where the rest of them were.

I told her they were at my house.

Tucker took his walkman from me and the box on the table. He told us that he'd just go pack this up. Valerie went with him.

Danny and I were alone in the room now.

We sat in silence for most of the while. It was comforting that he was here with me. So he reached forward, pulled a stand of hair out of my face and kissed me on the cheek telling me that it will all be okay.

It will all be okay.

* * *

"Miss?" She repeats. "How soon do you want it to get there?"

I rub my fingers over my temple, wanting the erratic pounding inside to die down.

"It doesn't matter," I say.

The clerk takes the package. The same shoe box that was on my porch less than twenty-four hours ago; rewrapped in a brown paper bag, exactly as I received it. But now, addressed with a new name.

Kwan.

"How much is it?" I ask. My headache is getting to the point I wish someone would just shoot me.

Maybe I can spare a visit to Paulina.

She places the box on a rubber pad, and then punches a sequence on her keypad. I set my cup of gas-station coffee on the counter and glance at the screen. I fish out some bills from my wallet and slap them on the counter.

When I take a sip from the coffee, it's lukewarm, and hard to swallow. But I have got to stay awake somehow.

"It should arrive at the address tomorrow," She says, "Or maybe after tomorrow," She drops the box in the cart behind her.

I should have waited till after school today. I should just give Kwan one last day of peace. Even though he doesn't deserve it. Hence why I am here at five thirty in the morning.

When he gets home tomorrow, or the day after, he'll find a package on his doorstep. Or if it's his mom or dad he'll find it on his bed in the afternoon. And he'll be excited. I was excited. A package with no return address? What's this? Maybe a secret admirer?

"Do you want the receipt?" The clerk asks.

I shake my head.

A small printer spits one out anyway. I watch her tear the slip and crumple it in the wastebasket.

There is only one post office in Amity. I wonder if this same clerk helped all the others on the list, those that got the package before me. Did they keep their receipts as sick souvenirs? Pin them on chalk boards? Tuck them in their drawers?

I don't need it. If I wanted a reminder, I would have made copies of those tapes or kept the map. But I never want to hear those tapes again, even though her voice will never leave my head. And the houses, the streets, the people; Casper high will always be there to remind me.

I walk out the post office, slowly. Every swallow tastes sour. Every step is an effort. I want to collapse into the side walk and just lay there. I don't want to face school today.

I don't want to face the people there.

I don't want to face that one seat in the class. That one seat.

Paulina's.

Empty.

* * *

Danny automatically puts his hand around my shoulders when I shiver in the cold air. I want to curl up and hug him for all of eternity and shun myself from any other existence on earth, but we're on a side-walk and I'm holding a cup of shitty coffee. It's not even strong.

We walk in silence. Val and Tuck said that they will go to school separately. They probably reached by now. By the time we reach the door of Casper High, I force myself to chug down the rest of the drink.

"We could always just go back," Danny says softly when he sees how I forcefully dump the crushed cup into the recycle bin. I shrug.

We're only half-way to my locker when Mr. Lancer comes up to me. It's really weird because he never comes out of his English class to talk to anyone unless it's really important. While he briskly walks along the corridor, I suddenly feel very self-conscious.

I probably look like a mess. I'm wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Oh my God… what if I smell? My eyeliner must make me look like have bags under my eyes… I probably do have bags under my eyes. What the hell. This is so not fair. I smell like coffee and Danny's shirt. My hair must look as if I just stumbled out of bed.

I really wish I had slept a bit.

The coffee isn't helping at all.

So, considering my state, I must have looked like a complete and utter moron when the bald headed professor asked me, "Ready?"

My brain tried to form a coherent thought, but the only thing it came up with was, "Huh?"

He suddenly realizes what I look like and his eyes widen slightly. He shoots a panicked glance at Danny and looks back at me.

"What?" I ask. I half expect Danny to tell me that I grew another ear or something by the way the teacher is looking at me.

"You do remember… don't you?" His voice is thick with nervousness.

I'm so confused for the first few minutes that I only stare dumbly at the teacher. Then, it hits me.

I gasp.

"_Tomorrow a special Author is coming to visit our school. There is going to be an assembly in which all students of Casper high will attend. All grades need to pick one student to get up on stage and share their thoughts on a novel, poem, or song. You, Sam, are going to represent our grade,"_

_I whine. "What is the point of this?" I grumble. I really don't need to get up on stage and blabber on about a book. _

Holy Shit.

My voice sounds stained and pathetic, "It's today?!"

Danny looks so confused.

"Um, actually," Lancer bites his lip. "It's now. The assembly hall is waiting for you,"

* * *

My palms are sweaty. I'm standing backstage juggling by body weight from foot to foot because I'm that nervous. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not nervous because there will be the whole student body watching me or whatever.

I'm nervous because there will be certain people there. Certain, unsuspecting people there, people that will get the tape next. People that will listen to these stories after me.

People who have already listened to these stories.

What do they think of me? A monster? A murderer?

I don't even have a book to talk about. Or a poem. Or a song.

But at least I somewhat tamed my appearance (and wild hair) by using the backstage mirrors and cast makeup kits. Now I just hope that none of them can smell the lingering coffee on me, or notice my wrinkled clothes.

Mr. Lancer comes up and asks if I'm ready, and I tell him that I'm not, and he just shrugs and pushes me on stage anyways.

The light is too bright.

My first impulse is to raise my hand above my eyes, but what good would that do? With the spotlight directed at my face, I can only see silhouettes of people. And for an entire second, I'm grateful that I don't need to see the faces of these people.

I walk somewhat steadily raking through my brain for something… _anything_, that would be appropriate to ramble on about.

When I reach the mike and grab it out of the stand, I almost open my mouth and start to blabber on about animal rights.

But I don't.

"Uh, Hi." I say, and mentally cringe by the way my voice sounds. Horrible, worn out, and the echo the mike gives doesn't help wither. I clear my throat. "My name is Sam. And I would like to talk to you about a song,"

There is a painful silence.

I know what song I'm going to talk about. It's just that I can't explain or put in words the way I'm feeling right now about the song.

So I do something that I will probably regret later in my life:

"I'm not going to stand here and ramble on about this particular song. I'm going to _sing_ it to you. And you can see why I choose this song by listening."

The audience stirs. I can't see them, but I can tell that they've sat up straight on their chairs, looking at me intently. I can feel their gaze and almost hear their mocking thoughts. _This is going to be interesting._

I swallow.

And when I open my mouth to sing the first verse, and it isn't the croaky mess I thought it would be. The coffee must have soothed my voice box somehow, because it actually sounds good:

"_It started out at school,_

_Always saying that she wasn't good enough._

_Stories spread and rumors told_

_That she somehow heard of,"_

I think of Dash and all the lies he told of her.

I think of all the Casper High rumors spinning around the cafeteria.

I think of how she must have felt, when she heard the rumors.

"_And then the social network came_

_And it got so much better._

_Telling her to just give up…_

_So she listened to the chatter."_

I think of what her last thoughts must have been.

Was she thinking about us?

Was she thinking about her mother?

"_How do you feel now she's gone,_

_And her family is torn._

_How do you feel now she's watching _

_You live on? _

_How do you feel now she's gone,_

_And what your words have done?"_

I think of her father. What is he thinking of? Is he feeling guilty?

Does he miss them? Is he relieved?

"_You can try, _

_You can cry,_

_You can plead, _

_But you're not_

_Innocent._

"_No, started out with a razor_

_When she was shaving her legs._

_Then it got to a knife when_

_She wasn't with her parents._

"_Always wearing jumpers and bangles, _

_It got to suicide attempts._

_And then they pushed her too far,_

_That she walked over the edge._

I think of all those people that pity her.

I think of all those people that adored her.

I think of her, ruining her friendship with Valerie to keep up the façade.

But none of it worked, did it?

"_How do you feel now she's gone,_

_And her family is torn._

_How do you feel now she's watching _

_You live on? _

_How do you feel now she's gone,_

_And what your words have done?"_

Irrationally, anger swells inside me.

How were we so blind and stupid?

Why would we even do that to anyone?

"_You can try, _

_You can cry,_

_You can plead, _

_But you're not_

_Innocent._

The next verse comes out harsh and cold.

"_Maybe next time, _

_You wouldn't let it get that far._

_You'll shut your mouth_

'_Cuz you know what the consequences are._

_It's blood on your hands!_

_I hope you realize now! _

_You killed her yourself!_

_I hope you figure that out!"_

"_How do you feel now she's gone,_

_And her family is torn._

_How do you feel now she's watching _

_You live on? _

_How do you feel now she's gone,_

_And what your words have done?_

_You can try, _

_You can cry,_

_You can plead,_

_But you're not_

_Innocent."_

I hang my head in despair and close my eyes.

There is a lump in my throat as I sing the next verse,

"_It's too late, it's too late._

_It's too late, it's too late,_

_It's too late, it's too late,_

_It's too late, it's too late,_

_It's too late."_

There is nothing we can do for her now.

And anything we should have done, we should have done earlier.

* * *

Over the roar of awkward clapping, I place my microphone back on the stand and nearly run off stage. Danny's already standing there waiting for me when I get out, and he hugs me and I hug him and just for those few seconds I bask in his embrace and force myself to believe that everything will be okay.

It will be okay.

* * *

The End

* * *

**YAY! This is officially the first finished fic I have published on to this site. I really hope you enjoyed it. I loved writing this. Please leave your last review on your final thoughts. Thank you so much!**

**~Mark the Tiny Giraffe. **


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